G sine theta! G sine theta! - posted at 14:25

I went cross-country skiing for the third time today. We've been having a lot of crossover temperatures (below and above freezing) and so the snow conditions are getting really bad, leading to very slick ice/snow and quite a bit of difficulty going in a straight line or snowplowing while doing said skiing. This made hills terrifying, so I tried to stay in the tracks as much as possible because they could guide me more than the slippery surface could.

There was one hill where the curve at the bottom was pretty sharp so my gurus advised me to not take the tracks and to snowplough down the hill instead. It was rather steep, and as I stepped up to the top and tried to get the hang of digging in my skis like a madwoman before I actually stepped into the cruel, unforgiving grip of gravity, all that I could hear was the panicked physicist in my head screaming "G SINE THETA! G SINE THETA!" This, of course, would have been the acceleration that I experienced just before death if I messed this hill up.

Digging in my skis one last time while attempting to point in some semblance of a straight line down the hill, I figure, "what the hell!" (I know, famous last words) and give myself the tiniest prod down the hill with my poles. In about 1/30th of a microsecond I'm going three times the speed of sound in a direction that is distinctly not straight down the slick slope, trying desperately to bend the ice to my formidable will, and attempting even more desperately to stay upright and navigate not only the hill but the sharp turn at the bottom -- all so I don't die.

Somehow, I prevail. It isn't pretty, but I stay upright with a minimum of flailing. I'm not sure how this happened -- I was so sure I was going to wipe out. Elated, I ski on, feeling accomplished and distinctly not dead.

So the moral of the story is to make sure snow conditions are favorable when you are learning a sport that, as evidenced by the fact that your survival depends on the planks of wood that you strap to your feet, is as dastardly as cross-country skiing.

BONUS: I saw fresh moose feet on the trails! In several locations! And on the drive into the park where we skied I definitely saw a moose chowing down on some bark. Be patient, Mr. Moose, the grass is starting to show through the snow and soon will be the season of plenty!

Kestrel commented:

Cross country skiing is something I've always wanted to try. A workout and adventure in one!